


His Lying Eyes

by mevima



Series: Hawke Deep Thoughts [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4584618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mevima/pseuds/mevima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders is lying to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Lying Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Hawke could be male or female for this, though I see him as male. Minor spoilers for Anders' personal quest in Act 3.

Anders is lying to me.

I can read it easily in the sideways twitch of his lips, the nervous tic in his fingertips, and the way his eyes slide over my face without looking at me.

I've known this man intimately for years. The signs of his deceit are impossible to miss, and I cannot for the life of me figure out why he's doing it. He shouldn't need to lie to me about anything. He should trust me. I would do anything for him.

The thought that I obviously haven't done enough to prove this to him forms a tight, ugly ball in my chest. I mouth a bland response, assure him that of course I'll help him gather his rare ingredients for his mythical Tevinter potion that will... separate him and Justice? It's not even a good lie. He would never want that and I know it. But what else can I do?

_Why is he lying to me?_

Somehow, he must feel he has to. How could he stand there and feed me this dishonesty otherwise? How could Justice allow it? Justice abhors lying. They must have convinced themselves it was necessary. It must be necessary. It's the only way to explain it.

Maker _, why?_

I accompany him to the dangerous places he needs to be, and pretend desperately not to have noticed, giving only cheerful banter for the disgusting crystals and the endless spiders in our way. A litany of anguished questions runs through my head the entire time.

I can't bring myself to touch him that night, and Maker help us, he does not protest.

Something must be very wrong.

It's on the tip of my tongue, just to ask him. Will he tell me the truth, now that we've completed his tasks? Or will he brush it off, change the subject - tell me I'm wrong? I'm not wrong. I feel it in my bones, a sinking, desperate sensation that Anders _does not trust me_.

I would have done anything if you'd only asked, without question, without this useless filthy story. You didn't need to make something up, love.

My hand shakes slightly as I reach across, unable to stand the cracking distance that has suddenly opened between us, and pull Anders close. He wraps his arms around my waist sleepily, presses his face into my shoulder, and murmurs that he loves me.

I can only hold him tight and wait.


End file.
